Sex in the Sewer
by FairDrea
Summary: Crackfic. Sooo...this is what happens when authors get bored, and get writers block on romance, and end up staying up way too late watching Sex in the City. Enjoy!


**A/N:** So this is what happens when I hit writers block on romance fics. Crackfic ensues. I know he's going to kill me for this…but there was no other way. I couldn't think of a reason why any other brother would be up so late at night. And even my husband who's pretty much a man's man (watches ESPN when he's not watching wrestling or playing Madden) has admitted that t is he show mentions is intriguing and gives a great insight to women. Soo…please Raph, go easy. It's not my fault you pull late nights.

Also, thank you to Mikell for being my wonderful beta and giving me the idea for the title. I was just going to go with "Crackfic" and leave it at that but she threw this one out there and tada! I give credit where credit is due. :D Thanks hun!

**Sex in the Sewers**

Coming down from the high of slipping into his old Nightwatcher garb and sneaking out of the Lair to revisit something he still held relatively close to him was never an easy thing. At times, he swore that being the Nightwatcher (especially when others were under the impression that he'd given it up nearly a year ago now) was better than any drug a person could get their hands on. He'd go out, he'd do his thing the way he always did it – to perfection. Then he'd come home and sit on the couch trying to wind down and failing miserably which would normally result in a morning spent in a near-coma that even Leo's annoying persistence couldn't pull him out of. He didn't do it often…but when he did – man, he paid for it the next day.

Staring at the leather bodysuit for a moment where it hung towards the back of his closet, Raph sighed, rolled his shoulder once to work free a lingering kink from too many well placed blows, then shut the door almost reverently. Part of him usually took an uncomfortable hit whenever he shut away something that was so significantly his. But knowing it was still there, that he could still pull it off without raising too many suspicions as long as it was only a once-and-a-while deal…it made it a little easier to deal with.

He crept downstairs, hitting the kitchen for a late night snack of cold, leftover chicken and a beer, then flopped onto the couch. The plate of chicken was set beside him, the beer on the table. There was a brief search for the remote - a few throw pillows tossed carelessly aside that he mentally promised to pick up later. He found it on the floor beside one of Mikey's X-Box wireless controllers. Turning the television on and immediately lowering the volume, he grabbed his beer and settled back, pulling up the list and looking for something worth watching. For some reason the usual choices didn't hold his interest. He'd caught the sports highlights earlier that evening, Ghost Adventures (which he only watched because of how painfully stupid the main guy was and the fact that he found painful stupidity humorous) was an old and not entirely amusing one, and every movie he came across was something that was borderline chick-flick. One channel in particular made him sneer in complete distaste. An all-day Sex in the City marathon…really? What _was_ it with this show that had women all crazy about it? He moved to the channel, read the caption on the episode and shook his head, even more confused. Really…what was it about this show, about four women living in New York and going at it with random men that had women so interested?

Curiosity started to eat away at disgust. He scratched at his neck with the hand holding the remote – hesitating…stalling. He leaned back over the couch, letting his head drop. He knew April was into this show – big time into it. When the new movie had come out she'd gone to see it opening night with a bunch of girlfriends none of them had even known she had. Girlfriends Mikey had been _way_ too interested in hearing about.

He glanced down the darkened hallway leading to his brother's rooms, then turned his head the other direction, looking towards the closed door to Splinter's room. It was late, there was no way any of them would be up. Not for several more hours. He made a strange noise – the kind of noise a man makes when he doesn't want to do something but knows he's going to do it anyway.

"Crud," he muttered, dropping his hand away from his neck and hitting select. He had a squirming feeling in his gut. He knew, _knew_ that if he got caught by _any _of his brothers…he would never live it down. They'd come up with a new nickname. Hot-head would be replaced with something a lot less impressive. Sure, he may not have been a fan of the name but it was a heck of a lot better than something like Nancy. But that stupid curiosity wouldn't leave him be. He muttered a few more choice words, lifted his beer and took a decidedly long slug and then…he watched.

His curiosity gave way to confusion which, after the second episode, gave way to slight begrudging amusement and then fascination. Before he even knew what was happening, he was hanging on every word, every scene, soaking in the information for reasons he couldn't possibly understand. There was no stopping it. Those four crazy chicks had him hooked and there was no way out.

* * *

The sound of her cell phone ringing incessantly pulled April from a fantastic dream where Adam Levine was proclaiming his undying love for her. She swore loudly, the sound muffled by her pillow. Whoever it was…they were going to pay – and pay dearly. Her dreams about the fantastic musician were few and far between. When she wasn't able to follow through on them…well, those were usually the days Casey made himself as scarce as possible.

Leaving her face in the pillow, she blindly reached out for the nightstand where her cell phone had nearly vibrated itself off the smooth surface. With an aggravated flip, it was opened and pressed to her ear.

"What?"

"Why the hell does she keep goin' back to this Big guy? I don't get it. I mean, Aiden was cool. He was a hell of a lot more decent than Big. What's her deal?"

April quickly levered herself onto her elbows. She was suddenly doubting whether or not she was still asleep. "Raph?"

"What? Oh, yeah. It's me. Hey. So, seriously – is this Carrie chick just that messed up?"

"What…" she glanced at the clock on the table. It was 5:30 in the morning. "Raph, do you even know what time it is?"

"No clue. Ya ever owned a pair of Manolo Blahnik's? Those things are freakin' expensive. I'm tryin' to get why she's so obsessed with the damn things. I mean, they're cute. I can see why a chick would want a pair but actually buyin' one?"

Okay, she had to be asleep still. Raph had just thrown three words by her that were so un-Raph that it wasn't even remotely close to funny – Minolo, Blahnik and cute. When did Raph _ever_ use the word cute?

"Raph…hun."

"And what about Samantha? Are there really chicks like that? That just…hop from one guy to the next. Do you have any friends like that? Do you guys actually talk about half the crap these guys talk about? Ya know, if you're gonna do that, you gotta warn us. Or at least Casey."

"Raph…seriously…"

"What about this Charlotte chick? She seems cool and everything but are chicks that self-centered. Would ya actually dump a guy if he…well, if he licked yer face like a damn dog, yeah I could see that…should probably take it easy on her. It's not like she didn't try to tell him how to do it right."

"Raph!"

"What?"

"Do me a favor…turn the television off…and go to bed before your brothers get up."

There was silence on the other end, like he was just now realizing that Leo would be up soon. "Yeeeah, that's a good idea. Sorry to wake ya, Ape. See ya later."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring down at the blinking numbers that signaled the end of the call. "Okay…that was just….strange."

"Who was that?"

April looked down at the lump beside her. Casey's mop of black hair peeked out from under the chenille sheets. The sun wasn't up yet and the glow of the street lamps slanted over the upper arm laying above his head. "Do me a favor," she said, tossing her phone back on the nightstand. "Take Raph out for a beer or two tomorrow night. And don't let him near a t.v. unless it's on ESPN or Sports Center."


End file.
